by M. S. Parker
“Comb it.” The short, succinct answer made me smile.
“So no styling products? Does that mean you just want to keep something similar to the style you have now?” I met his eyes for a moment. “Do you just want a trim, and maybe shape it up a bit?”
“You’re the professional…Allie, right? I’m in your capable...magic hands.”
His eyes stayed on me as he settled into the chair, and I had to fight the urge not to squirm. I was used to flirtation, but not this sort of intense scrutiny. I'd heard the sentiment of someone's gaze feeling like a caress, but I'd never experienced it until now.
Forcing myself to focus on the job at hand, I reached for my shears and a comb. “Well, let’s just see what we can come up with, since you’re putting yourself in my hands.”
He smiled, and my stomach twisted a bit.
Dammit.
4
Jal
Her eyes were nothing short of amazing.
Almost as amazing as her hands. I hadn’t been kidding when I told her I would have been perfectly happy if she’d just kept on doing what she’d been doing for another couple of hours. It had been relaxing. Not that kind of relaxing that made me want to sleep, just…relaxing. Like all of my worries had simply melted away.
But now that I was sitting in the chair and her hands were no longer working away tension I hadn’t known I’d been carrying, my brain was back to working overtime.
Her eyes.
That mouth.
Yeah…that mouth, distracting in oh, so many ways. Not only was it just about perfect, lush and wide and soft, but she hadn't given me any of the simpering deference I was used to. She wasn’t impressed with me. I dealt with it a little too often to not know when somebody was trying to suck up.
I had to admit, it was nice. While she was sticking with the usual Sir and Mr. Lindstrom, something told me that if she wasn’t here at work, if she’d met me out on the street, she wouldn’t have had a problem using only my first name.
I had a feeling the easy way she’d brushed away my teasing would've gone out the window too. She seemed like the sort of woman who would've told me to go fuck myself but said it with a smile.
The scissors moved around my head, and I closed my eyes as they came toward them.
“How long have you worked here?” I asked. I didn’t so much as care about the answer, but I wanted to hear her voice. It was on the low end for a woman, but the sort of tone that felt like something warm and sweet coating my skin.
My fingers twitched, and I willed myself not to get hard.
“A few years.”
“Do you like it?” Her hands brushed across my forehead, and I wondered what it would feel like to feel her hands sliding lower, cupping my cheeks as I kissed her.
It was a dumb thought. Really stupid. I was...involved, and this girl wasn't like the women I took to bed for random flings.
“It’s a good job,” she was saying, reminding me that I’d asked her a question. About her job. Because I liked hearing her talk.
“I guess you meet some interesting people.”
The smirk that crossed her face was gone so fast, if I hadn’t opened my eyes just then, I would have missed it. Her face folded back into that polite, professional mask. She wore one too. I wondered if she put hers off and on as easily as I did. And why. That curiosity right there made me want to talk to her more, ask her more questions, of a different sort. Nothing that had to do with inane bullshit like whether or not she found her job stimulating, either. But real questions. Ones that would tell me more about the type of woman she was.
My phone buzzed in my back pocket, reminding me of who I was, what I was. I had business to attend to, and none of it had anything to do with a pretty little hairdresser.
The urge to ask her to join me for coffee was stronger than I liked, so I lapsed into silence, and she didn't try to coax me out of it. One thing most stylists had a knack for was knowing when to talk and when not to. She didn't speak until she finished and pulled off the cloth covering me.
“Sonya can give you my card if you decide you’d like to come back. I’m here nine to two-thirty Mondays through Fridays and on Saturdays from nine until noon.” She walked over to where she'd hung my things and picked them up.
“And where are you the rest of the time? With your boyfriend? Husband?” I slid her a look as I accepted the coat and overcoat. I put my jacket on but hung my coat over my arm as I pulled out my wallet.
Light glinted in her eyes, amusement mixed with minor annoyance. A look I didn’t get too often. It made me want to jab at her again, just to draw it out. See if I could get her to let down her guard. As I offered my card to the woman behind the counter, I glanced down at my overcoat. I had something tucked inside the pocket that I couldn’t leave behind. It needed to go with me to New York later.
“I’m doing the sort of things a woman typically does when she isn’t working, Mr. Lindstrom.” Her lips curved and once more, I found myself thinking about kissing that pretty mouth.
Licking at the seam, pushing my way past the barrier of her lips, tasting her. She’d be sweet and hot, and she wouldn’t wait for me to guide her, either. I knew it instinctively. She was too cocky, too confident. I was willing to bet she could actually be my match.
Moving a little closer, I said, “I have to admit, I’m curious about just what those things are, Allie.”
I held out a hand, wondering if she’d accept it this time.
She did. Her grip was firm and warm, but it didn't linger.
“Thanks for the haircut, Allie.”
I took my card back from Sonya and dipped my head a little closer to Allie’s, close enough that I could smell a different scent of shampoo. “Have a good day.”
Without waiting for a response, I turned and strode out the door.
It was bitterly cold, even more so without my overcoat, but if I hadn't left it on the chair inside, I wouldn’t have a reason to get back in touch with her again.
“Sir, your coat?” Thomas said, glancing back to the storefront of the salon. “Would you like me to go get it?”
“It’s fine, Thomas. Let’s go.”
* * *
The tension that had melted away under Allie’s hands was back full strength and then some. Mom had already called. Again. She’d been the one to call while I was getting my hair cut, and I knew she wouldn't be happy that I hadn’t called her back.
I didn’t plan to either. Whatever it was could wait until she had me trapped in front of her for however long our meal took. I really did love my mom – I reminded myself of that several times a day – but my patience with her need to micromanage my life was getting thin. I was already doing a shitload of stuff I didn't want just to please her and my dad. Mostly her. She didn't need to take over every minute.
“How long will it take to get to the restaurant, Thomas?” I rubbed my temples, then remembered what it had felt like to have other fingers on me, and I stopped.
“About thirty minutes, sir. Traffic is pretty light.”
“Good. We’ve got an hour yet. Let’s go down to the river.” I was going to freeze my ass off, but I needed to clear my head again.
The weather worked.
The cold wind blowing off the water cleared my head and froze my blood. I was almost positive that my balls had pretty much retreated all the way up inside my body and might take an entire month to thaw out. The sun shone down bright and clear, but didn't offer much heat. Still, I didn’t retreat back into the car.
Thomas stood next to me, his hands tucked into the pockets of a serviceable green overcoat, part of the uniform, a pair of sunglasses shielding his eyes.
“You don’t have to stand out here and freeze with me,” I told him.
“I like the river myself, Mr. Lindstrom.” He lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug.
We both lapsed back into silence, and I didn’t do much of anything but brood. First, over seeing my mother, then the flight to New York...and what wou
ld happen after that.
“What time is it?” Thomas told me and I blew out a sigh, my breath frosting the air. “I guess we need to go, or I’ll be late. Heaven forbid.” The last came out in a sardonic drawl.
I had a feeling that Thomas wanted to smirk, but he didn’t. He was far too professional for that.
I sighed. “All right. Let’s get this over with. It's going to be a long couple days, and I just want to get it all over with.”
As far as I was concerned, the lunch with my mom would be a nightmare, but I knew if I tried to put it off, she'd do something crazy like show up in New York. Just the thought of that made me shiver.
5
Allie
“Man, he’s hot.” Sonya leaned against the counter, staring after my client as he walked out the door.
I had a few minutes to spare before I had to get back to work, so it didn't surprise me that my co-worker wanted to chat. My next appointment was currently finishing up her facial and would be done shortly, ready for the haircut and style she absolutely had to get done today, thanks to a last minute invitation to a very important social event. I always found it amusing that she always had these “very important” last minute invitations.
Thanks to the empty lobby, Alistair joined us to put in his own two cents. “Oh, yes. Very hot. And straight.”
Sonya and I snickered at the annoyance in the last two words. Giving my boss a sober look, I said, “Yeah. All the good looking ones are straight or taken.”
“It’s not funny.” He sniffed imperiously. “The good gay ones are taken, or they just aren’t ready to commit. You’d think it was a dirty word.”
“For some, it is.” I shrugged. He wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t know. Personally, I thought love was overrated. My mother had loved my biological father, and he'd broken her heart over and over. It'd taken her years to find a happy place with Tyson. I was just fine keeping my relationships light and easy.
I started to push a few loose strands of hair back from my face and saw the bills in my hand. Alistair frowned over us counting our tips in the public area of the salon, so I shoved the money into my pocket along with the tip from Daisy, then went around the counter to double-check my schedule.
“Don’t tell us you didn’t think he was hot.” Sonya gave me a skeptical look.
“Oh, he was plenty hot.” I shrugged as I studied the monitor. My next appointment and then after that, another haircut. Then I was done. I wouldn’t even have to rush to get to school in time to get TJ. That was good. Despite the chill, I could appreciate a nice slow walk.
The door opened and Alistair snapped to attention, all business and ass-kissing now. I couldn't really make fun of him for it. He was good at it. I nodded at Sonya and moved back to my station in time to see one of the other stylists coming in from the back.
Time to get back to work…
* * *
At the end of the day, I was so done. My last appointment had been one that usually went to Sandy, another of my co-workers, but she was off today, and Alistair had put the Philadelphia high society princess with me. It was probably because he knew she was likely to end up going off, and I was the one employee most likely to keep my temper.
And she did go off.
The woman had been impossible to please, and she'd practically shrieked when a four-inch lock of hair had fallen into her lap.
She’d given me a picture of a hairstyle, which required losing some length, I’d explained. She’d insisted I knew nothing about hair, and then Alistair had stepped in to soothe her, promising I was one of his best stylists, that I’d make her shine even more than she already did.
He really knew how to lay it on thick when he had to.
Her hair turned out perfect, even better than the picture, but she’d still sniffed disdainfully and gave me a, “It will do.”
Then she’d left a dollar bill on the counter.
I'd picked it up and given a little curtsey. “Oh, thank you. I can buy a soda pop now.”
My sardonic humor had been lost on her, but not Alistair. He’d stood in his position in the back, shaking his head, his mouth tight.
I’d get it for that one, no doubt, but I hadn't minded. It'd been worth it.
Sure enough, right before I walked out, he reminded me in polite but firm terms that he had the best salon/spa in the city and paid his employees accordingly. That meant we sometimes had to put up with the eccentricities of our patrons. In other words, we had to deal with their rudeness and bullshit. With a smile.
I’d nodded, agreed, and left.
We both knew it would happen again, and unless it was really blatant, he wouldn't fire me. I was too good at my job. Also, I was smart enough to save my sharp tongue for those who were too vapid to pick up on the sly insults. I pretended to be contrite, and we were both happy enough with it as I headed out the door. I was one of his best, and I was the most unflappable person in there. The insults hurled by the snottier patrons wouldn’t put me in tears, and if I was given a one-dollar tip by some snide piece of work, I knew I’d make up for it with somebody else, like Daisy.
It was a workable arrangement, but today, it all put me back on edge.
I had to pick up TJ, and by the time I left, my head was pounding. I might've had enough self-control to keep my temper, but it didn't mean the things people did and said to me didn't affect me. Sometimes I wondered if I really did want a job, but I never let myself push it past that wondering phase. It wasn’t like a hundred jobs were lying around that paid this well or offered the flexible hours I needed.
In other words, just like all other aspects of my life, I was stuck.
And that was the thought that bounced in my head the entire way to my brother's school. Over and over it played, all the ways I could never get out of the life I was in. Most of the time, I didn't even think it. I loved my family. I more or less liked my job. But there were times when certain things hit me. This was one of those times.
TJ was just coming out the door when I got to his school. I smiled at him and asked how his day was.
His only response was a shrug. It was hard to tell if that was a good thing or a bad one, but I remembered what it was like to be in middle school. It'd kind of sucked for me, and the bullies I'd had to deal with had been nothing compared to the assholes who went after TJ.
As we started down the sidewalk, I caught sight of some familiar faces. One of them opened his mouth before he saw me. He snapped it shut, shifting his features into a casual smile. Not buying it, pal. Giving him a narrow-eyed glare, I lifted my chin and stared him down. His face flushed a dull red, and he jabbed his friend in the side. They both turned, slinking away.
Cowards. I didn't care that they were only kids. They were old enough to know better, and that was what mattered.
“They take one look at you and take off,” TJ signed, shaking his head. “You gotta show me how to do that.”
“TJ, my man, it won’t work,” I said. “That's a special trick unique to women, especially effective on the bullying type and the small-minded. But you don’t have the equipment to do it, even if you did have the right temperament.”
He snorted when he laughed like he always did, and it was enough to make me smile. Like always. I gave his head a playful shove. He was nine years younger than me, but we were close. We didn't really look anything alike since he looked more like his father with his darker skin and similar features. I was more of a combination of my mom and asshole sperm donor, which meant TJ and I shared very little in the way of a physical resemblance. None of that mattered to us though. Our relationship had never been awkward or weird. It was easy. Sure, we got on each other's nerves sometimes, but it was never for long.
“Okay, man. Let’s get you back home. I want some ice cream.”
His face lit up is if I had said the magic words. I guess in a way I had. He didn't have much of a sweet tooth, but he did like his ice cream.
* * *
It took another hour and a hal
f for me to get any time to myself. Mom and Tyson were at home when we got in. Naturally, they asked how school had gone and TJ had launched into a description of how I’d made the two ringleaders of the bullies take off with their tales tucked between their legs.
That resulted in me being questioned since, of course, I was supposed to take the high road and ignore them. I was only supposed to walk with TJ and make sure nobody bothered him. Since I’d engaged with the bullies, I ended up getting a twenty-minute lecture that made me wish I'd really done something worth it.
Naturally, neither of them were mad at me. They were just concerned that this might result in the bullies further antagonizing TJ.
I disagreed. When they had to turn tail and run from a girl, it'd taken some the wind out of their sails, given TJ a little more confidence. But I didn't say any of that. What the hell did I know about raising a teenager? I had been one only a few years ago.
Since nothing they said would change my opinion and nothing I said would change theirs, there was no point in arguing. Not even if I was getting taken to task like I was fourteen years old and they’d caught me sneaking out the window of my bedroom, but still…
When they finally finished, I headed up to my room. Halfway up the stairs, the house phone started to ring. I’d hesitated for a minute before continuing on up to my room. The light would flash if it was a TTY call. If it was for me, they could call my cell phone.
I just didn't feel like talking to anyone else today, and I knew that's what would happen if I answered that call. After all, my parents couldn’t hear who was on the regular phone, and I would have to explain that to a stranger, and I was just tired of doing it. Sometimes, I felt like I was suffocating.
Once inside my room, I fell face first down on the bed, arms spread out. I was itchy under my shirt. I should have gone straight into the shower to get off all the stray hair that managed to work its way into my clothes, but I was too tired to move.